


the goonies are good enough

by heyobsessions



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Light Smut, M/M, everyone is gay except for ben, no pennywise bc fuck that, stupid boys in love, they are 17 in this if you care, this is barely explicit, this is really soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 03:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12246501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyobsessions/pseuds/heyobsessions
Summary: The only thing that is really just the same as three years ago: Richie still thinks Eddie is the cutest fucking thing ever, definitely in all of Derry, and probably in the entire world.





	the goonies are good enough

**Author's Note:**

> (if you get the song title good job)
> 
> richie and eddie hurt me so badly and i read too many sad things about them and needed to fill the void in my heart. so this happened
> 
> the vape thing is a joke that i took from some tweet or something that i forget

Richie Tozier doesn’t make inappropriate jokes at every opportunity anymore (just every other opportunity).

Richie Tozier no longer jokes about not being a virgin (they stop being funny once Richie realizes how much it actually sucks being a virgin).

Richie Tozier has stopped with his Voices (except the British guy—c’mon, he’s a classic).

Richie Tozier is 17 years old, a senior in high school, he just hit 6’3, and lots of things have changed. For starters, the Losers aren’t really losers anymore. They still don’t really have friends outside themselves, but with Henry Bowers somewhere in Virginia with some distant relative “to give him distance from his hurtful environment,” no one really pays much mind to them. Hell, Ben’s even had a girlfriend or two, after he learned how to actually talk to girls.

Bill and Bev danced around each other for a few months before realizing they were better off friends (and better off chasing the other sex). Mike is still homeschooled, but he’s stopped working at his family’s farm (that was just gross), and now he works part-time at the library. Stan’s already committed to Princeton, because fuck him, and he even grew into the whole skinny pale thing. He’s also valedictorian and president of the GSA, because again, fuck him.

Eddie, well, Eddie is pretty much the same. He’s small, like more than a foot smaller than Richie small, and he still carries a fanny pack, and he still flicks Richie off like, at least thrice a day. Except now Eddie’s a whole lot braver, his hair’s a lot curlier, and his fanny pack is full of cigs instead of bullshit medicine.

The only thing that is really just the same as three years ago: Richie still thinks Eddie is the cutest fucking thing ever, definitely in all of Derry, and probably in the entire world.

Eddie is just _cute_. That’s the only word Richie can really use. You can’t blame him, with Eddie’s fucking anime eyes and fluffy hair and giant sweaters and overalls and bright yellow fanny pack and his tendency to chew on his bottom lip.

Richie is contemplating said cuteness when the owner of said cuteness just fucking _decks_ him. Okay, Eddie doesn’t _deck_ him, he just jumps on his back in an aggressive, nonconsensual piggy-back ride.

“The fuck, Eds?” Richie stumbles, almost falling smack into the concrete, taking Eddie with him.

“Got tired of walking,” Eddie gives as an explanation, which Richie accepts without further questioning, mostly because he’s distracted by how light Eddie is, how warm his breath is on the back of his neck.

They’re walking home, well, Eddie’s home, because Mrs. K has given up on trying to stop Richie from spending every second possible at their house. It’s just the two of them, which tends to happen more now than it used to, when Richie thinks about it.

Speaking of Eddie, he’s still having a grand time breathing down Richie’s neck, making it increasingly hard for him to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Am I heavy?” Eddie asks, crossing his ankles in front of Richie’s stomach.

“Nah, about the same weight as that ice cream cone I just ate,” Richie replies, though his arms are starting to hurt a little bit.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Eddie says, throwing his weight from side to side, almost getting Richie to falter in his mission to walk successfully.

“Don’t be too put out, Eds, I got a triple scoop. Pretty fair comparison, I’d say,” Richie says, tightening his grip on Eddie’s thighs to keep him balanced.

Eddie aims a kick back at Richie’s stomach, so Richie drops him. And then he turns around to check Eddie landed okay, because hey, he’s not a complete dickhead. Plus, he’s a little bit in love, but that’s less important.

Eddie flicks him off with both hands (and that makes three. Consistency). Richie just grins, walking backwards now to the Kaspbrak’s. He notes that Eddie’s sweater is gray today, with a little embroidered rose over his heart. It’s baggy, because of course it is, it’s Eddie. Richie’s heart swells a little bit, and he does fail at walking this time, stumbling. He turns to walk forwards, ignoring Eddie’s teasing.  
   
They make it to Eddie’s house without further incident, Richie regaining control over his body, and slip past Mrs. K and up into Eddie’s room. Richie collapses on his bed at once.

“Why did we walk again?” he groans, sprawled out on his back.

“Physical exercise is important,” Eddie recites absentmindedly, rummaging around in one of his drawers.

“You looking for your virginity? Thought you still had that,” Richie calls from the bed. Hey, he said he stopped making jokes about his virginity.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie mumbles, turning around, but his eyes are fixed on Richie. Specifically, Richie’s midsection.

His eyes flick down instinctively, and he sees that his knit sweater has ridden up in his dramatic descend onto Eddie’s bed, exposing his stomach and the line of his boxers sticking out under his jeans. Richie smirks at Eddie wildly, flexing his abs a little bit to see Eddie’s reaction. Eddie blinks three times consecutively, blushes bright red, and turns around fast enough to give himself whiplash.

Richie sends his thanks to whatever god is up there right now, throwing him a bone.

He stays quiet for Eddie’s sake until he finally emerges from his drawer, holding up.. an inhaler.

“Uh, I thought you stopped using that in freshman year?” Richie asks cautiously.

He _knows_ Eddie stopped using his inhaler in freshman year, because he would watch him pat his fanny pack looking for it every once in a while for months after, and Richie himself carried a spare one around all the way until sophomore year.

“Um,” Eddie says, and either his blush hasn’t faded from before or he’s embarrassed about something entirely different.

Either way, an exciting prospect.

Richie raises an eyebrow, and sits up, setting a hand on each knee. “Spill, Eds.”

He watches Eddie mouth a few words, and then mutter something under his breath.

“I’m on the fucking edge of my seat here, man. Have mercy,” Richie pleads, leaning forward on the bed. Eddie is barely taller than him like this.

“I thought we could use it as a vape.”

Richie blanks.

Eddie opens and closes his mouth quickly, looking sort of angry all of a sudden. “I know, it’s dumb, okay, would that even work—it definitely wouldn’t be sanitary, all sharing one, it’s probably not super effective but we could probably get Bill to figure it out and it’d work decent, I was talking to Stan and he thought it’d be a better option than paying that girl in his English class 20 bucks-“

“I could kiss you right now,” Richie blurts.

It’s not even the prospective vape. It’s Eddie, holding that dumb inhaler in one hand, and his sweater is slipping off one of his shoulders now, and he’s still fucking blushing, and the fact that he was so excited, but so nervous just to tell Richie about a homemade vape even though Richie knows Eddie thinks they are dumb (and they are, definitely. But Richie would really kill to see Eddie use a vape for the first time and smell fucking creme brûlée on him the rest of the day).

Eddie’s mouth stays open, his bitten lips parted invitingly.

“What?” they say at the same time.

“I could kiss you right now,” Richie repeats, a little bit because he’s a fucking idiot but also because he’s thinking about Eddie’s eyes on him and Eddie blushing and he lets himself _hope_ , just a tad.

“Okay,” Eddie says, and then he’s walking towards him, dropping the already forgotten inhaler back in the drawer.

Richie is about seventy percent sure he’s about to get decked for real. But then Eddie’s got his hands on his shoulders and he’s leaning down, what the fuck, and they’re kissing.

It’s soft. The kiss is soft like Eddie’s over-moisturized hands and fucking doe eyes and like the private Spotify playlist Richie has of shitty, acoustic love songs. It’s soft like how Richie feels about Eddie.

Then Richie starts to kiss back. He has his hands on Eddie’s waist, and fuck him, his hands are so big in comparison. Eddie’s lips are chapped, and his waist is tiny, and Richie’s pulling him down a little bit so he’s straddling his lap.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Richie says.

Eddie snorts. “Shut the fuck up, dickwad.”

“Bet you’d love to get a wad from this dick,” Richie replies, tugging him back in.

The second kiss is different. It’s more. Eddie’s tongue is in his mouth and fuck, they are rapidly reaching the end of Richie’s expertise in this field.

Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, probably he’s the other virgin in the room. Contrarily, he’s making little “uh” sounds with every one of his grinds downward, and he’s full out pulling on Richie’s hair now.

“Shit, Eds,” Richie mumbles, breaking the kiss to finally get at his fucking shoulder, the one he’s always showcasing in his sweaters.

Making out with a shoulder shouldn’t be this hot, but now Richie’s hips are jerking without his consent, he’s trailing up Eddie’s neck, and wow, Eddie is a fan of that.

“Rich, Rich, c’mon,” Eddie is whining, and his voice sounds shaky like he’s gonna need that inhaler.

Richie kisses him on the lips, chaste, soft, and Eddie looks a little dazed, a little confused at the change of pace.

“You’re the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Richie tells him.

Eddie’s eyes narrow, but Richie feels his hips jerk.

“Richie,” he starts, “that’s really great, but I’ve been waiting to have my hand on your dick for two years now.”

Richie smiles, and he knows he looks so fucking dopey and in love right now, but _fuck_ he is in love so who gives a shit. “I win, I’ve been waiting for three.”

Eddie’s lips part, which is perfect because Richie makes a grab at his dick, allowing a too-loud moan to cut through the room.

His hands are shaking but he makes quick work of his jeans, reaching in past Eddie’s boxers. And fuck, Eddie’s all pink and wet and hard, and he fucking whimpers when Richie touches him.

“I’m going to blow my load in about four seconds,” Eddie tells him, and he already sounds like he’s on the cusp.

Richie squeezes him, and strangely enough pets his hair with his free hand, and tells him, “Yeah, babe, come.”

And Eddie must be into being told what to do, that or pet names (the latter does seem more likely, but a boy can dream), because Eddie comes in about three strokes, all over Richie’s hand and his gray sweater.

“ _Fuck_ , Rich,” Eddie moans half-hearted after, falling into the crook of his shoulder.

Richie is about to accept his fate of dying of blue balls when Eddie starts to rock down into him again, his soft dick still hanging out, which is a little bit funny but Richie is about to come in his pants so he doesn’t laugh.

“Baby, Eds, Eds,” he says, and Eddie finally manages to get a hand on him and he comes even faster than Eddie did.

Richie falls back onto the bed (how had he stayed upright during that, what the fuck), bringing Eddie with him.

They get their clothes situated, rearranging themselves so they’re lying in the bed properly, Richie on his back, Eddie halfway on top with his head pillowed on his chest.

Richie is running a hand through Eddie’s curls, feeling himself drift off in some kind of post-sex haze. Eddie reaches an arm around his waist, hugging him now, and Richie is positive his heart can’t possibly be fitting inside his chest, not with how full of love he feels.

“Three years?” Eddie asks softly. Or maybe says. He shouldn’t have to ask, there’s no way he doesn’t know.

“Yeah,” is all Richie says (see, no inappropriate joke).

“Wow,” Eddie says softly.

And then—“Took you long enough.”

Richie chokes on nothing, tugging Eddie’s hair sharply. And because he can’t think of anything to come back with, he just says “Fuck off,” and leaves it at that, already petting Eddie again.

He can practically feel Eddie smile into his chest, and he knows he’s whipped already. Fuck, he’s been whipped for three years.

So, Richie guesses that now more things have changed.

The important things still stand: Richie would follow Bill to the ends of the Earth, if asked. Ben is always gonna be a fucking nerd, and Stan is always gonna have a stick up his ass. Bev is always gonna be way too cool for the rest of them, Mike way too kind.

And Eddie’s always gonna be fucking short. He’s always gonna be short, and complain about being called Eds, and probably physically abuse Richie (just when he deserves it).

Richie will always be full of shit, and make crappy playlists that he doesn’t let anyone listen to, and make jokes at the wrong time. He’s always gonna think Eddie’s the cutest boy in all of Derry, and definitely in the universe.

But hey, now he can actually tell the truth when he says he’s not a virgin.

**Author's Note:**

> these boys, all of the boys in this movie, and their actors really just affect my soul deeply


End file.
